


fireside

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Closeted Louis, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Funny, Gay, Happy Ending, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Come Out, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, One Direction Hiatus, Post-Zayn One Direction, Smut, i wrote this at 2am, liam is daddy direction, niall also likes barbara way too much, niall just wants beer and pizza, really shitty smut, zayn is just a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: zayn leaves at five in the morning after tucking louis into bed. he doesn't break their silence but he gives him a look, not as threatening as liam's and not as careless and niall's, just a gentle reminder that this is his life, sort it out for yourself. and louis gets that. he does. so when he falls asleep that night, he has a plan and a slightly lighter heart.





	fireside

**Author's Note:**

> heyy everyone! so first off i really want to apologise for how shit this entire thing is, especially the smut (just don't read that yeah?)! it was like two in the morning and i wrote this just so i could give you something while i write the longgggg fic i'm working on xxxxx
> 
> song: fireside - arctic monkeys

louis doesn't know what it is, but, if he's going to be stereotypical, there's a weight bearing down on his shoulders. or maybe his heart. again, he doesn't know.

not like a literal weight, like when harry wants a piggy back even though louis is smaller than him and it makes literally no sense for him to be the one giving piggy backs. but like, in stories when you have this revelation you haven't come to yet and it's just wearing you down waiting for you to notice it.

it started about a month ago, he guesses, either that or it was always there, just very subtle. one direction had just begun their hiatus, so at first he assumed it was just to do with missing these boys who had rapidly become his brothers. so that was the first change he made.

he meets liam first, because liam's the one that he feels has left the greatest gap in his life. they go and watch a football game, and afterwards louis' voice is hoarse but liam's eyes are shining and his face is red and the weight is still there. he offers to pay for liam at burger king, and louis has never known liam to decline somebody else paying for him - never known anyone to decline that, except for maybe someone he's trying hard not to think of - so they sit down together.

"it's amazing, really," liam says. "cheryl's just doing so well with everything, even when i'm out writing new stuff and she has to look after bear all day alone."

"guess that feels a bit shit though?" louis says, and he is guessing, because despite all of the efforts made my modest, he doesn't have a child and he doesn't leave said child alone with his mother who isn't really his mother and his other family who are his parents. most of their fans know that. 

liam looks at him a bit sadly, because they've always had this mind connection. "how're you holding up, lou?" 

louis shrugs. "it's getting better, innit. briana's really kind of out of the picture now? and most of me fans are figuring out that i really have shit to do with any of this. i do have a pap meeting with eleanor tomorrow morning though. going to asda, i think."

"and harry?"

"what about him?"

liam shoots him that look, that daddy direction look that everyone knows. "don't play stupid, have you even talked to him since the incident?"

"god, liam, it wasn't that bad," louis says. and it really wasn't. theoretically. if you, however, were louis, and had to resist harry styles sat on your lap, and had to resist kissing him even when he leaned in to kiss you, and had to come up with a shitty excuse, and for some reason decided that eleanor, his beard, his fake girlfriend, the reason that you lie in bed at night hating everything and the reason harry welcomes you in his bed to cuddle every night - yeah, it was pretty bad.

"whatever you say, lou," liam says, and louis knows he's disappointed, and that conversation is over.

the next morning, he has a pap meeting with eleanor, but he also has plans with niall for that evening, so he grips her hand more like a cross parent would with their child having a tantrum and drags her to the frozen pizza and beer.

"god, lou," she says, for about the fifth time as he's debating between pepperoni and meat feast. "niall doesn't care, just get him a six-pack of beer and a pineapple."

and if louis didn't hate eleanor enough, the fact she condones pineapple on pizza makes him drop her hand and roll his eyes. "i'll have you know, niall hates pineapple full stop, let alone on pizza." he doesn't know anyone who likes their pizza fruity, except someone he isn't thinking about.

she rolls her eyes right back at him, and really, louis has no idea how paps make it look like they have any chemistry. "well hurry up, i have a nail appointment at twelve-thirty and i need to get some guacamole for my instagram."

niall comes over that night, half an hour late but with a whole box of beer and the newest fifa that louis hasn't even gotten around to buying. maybe that's the heaviness on his chest.

"ni, i'm borrowing this game," he announces after he's thrashed niall three times and they're both pleasantly buzzed.

"to hell you are," niall replies with a mouthful of pizza. "you're just as fuckin' rich as i am, buy it yourself."

"i hate you," louis says, draping himself across the floor where he's somehow positioned. 

"why'd you want it anyway? isn't harry shit at fifa?"

louis freezes up. "niall... harry moved out before the hiatus started. you know that."

"i do," niall says, grabbing another pizza slice. "i also know that you'd rather play it with him than any of us, and he's shit at it. he's the fuckin' worst, but you two still team up and beat the crap outta all of us. cus he'd do anything with you, tommo, you know that."

louis really doesn't have the slightest idea what to respond to that, so he chugs the remains of his beer and scores the winning goal as the weight gets heavier and heavier. he just hopes that niall is slightly more drunk than he is and moves the conversation on.

"oh yeah, did i tell ya?" niall exclaims. "guess who had a fuckin' date last night! me! with, guess who? a fuckin' victoria secret!"

and so it goes on.

he wakes up with a banging headache and as soon as he sits up, he has to swallow back the vomit that wants to rise up in his throat because he knows that as soon as he throws up he'll cry over everything, and as soon as he cries about hangovers he'll cry about someone else that no matter what he is not going to cry over. he takes a paracetamol and drinks some water, then some orange juice, then some yorkshire tea, then his eyes drift to the expensive wine on the cabinet that bebe gave him as a celebration for their new song. he slaps himself for even thinking about it and spends all day in a jumper that is decidedly too big to be his watching old x factor reruns. not theirs. that would make him cry.

he lies on the roof instead of in his bed that night, and he really can't be bothered to talk to anyone but this weight has only got worse, so he sends zayn a simple text asking him to come over. he doesn't talk to zayn too much anymore, but he's a good hugger and smells of sharpies and cigarettes and expensive perfume and he knows how louis feels before he even says anything.

so zayn comes over, and wraps louis up in this expensive blanket that he probably got from gigi and they lie together, staring at the stars. zayn offers him a cigarette but he declines, knowing that someone would hate him smoking. they don't speak a word, not when the birds are the only sound, not when zayn gets his phone out and puts the arctic monkeys on, not when he starts to hum along, not when he gets out a tiny pad of paper and starts to draw the way louis looks right now, small and lost as he watches the only thing he doesn't feel the need to control or protect. he draws his tiny hands clutching around nothing, his sad eyes and a pile of bricks leaving him hunched over.

zayn worries, and louis doesn't think.

zayn leaves at five in the morning after tucking louis into bed. he doesn't break their silence but he gives him a look, not as threatening as liam's and not as careless and niall's, just a gentle reminder that this is his life, sort it out for yourself. and louis gets that. he does. so when he falls asleep that night, he has a plan and a slightly lighter heart.

the next day, he's supposed to be taking eleanor out for her "daily starbucks", and his twitter is going insane with how many people are begging him to give them something, anything to tell them they weren't wrong about him. so he goes on online, replies to a few tweets and then continues to ignore eleanor's texts asking him where he is. he ignores them until she accepts that he's done and sends him one last message along the lines of i hope you work it out, and then the phone calls come. on his work phone, his home phone, his personal phone - simon must be shitting himself right now, and despite everything he lets himself chuckle at the thought of simon having a breakdown at the hands of louis. 

a few hours later, when the calls have stopped, he gets one last text message. from simon. he doesn't open it for a while, and just stares at the walls, the floor, anywhere else that isn't the device begging for his attention. all the things the text could say make him stand up and get out, plugging his earplugs into his ipod just so he doesn't have to see the message, shoves his phone into his pocket without a second thought, and goes for a run.

the same arctic monkeys song is playing, and now he recognises it. it's one of the songs that harry covered on his last solo performance, the one that left him with tears in his eyes and louis with that empty feeling that comes along with the heavy heart he's so used to. 

i can't explain but i want to try  
there's this image of you and i  
and it goes dancing by in the morning and in the night time

and louis can't remember the last time he ran anywhere, but he also can't remember why not. it's calming, and gives him time to think and to enjoy the clear nights. being closeted and in a fake relationship really does make you enjoy the small things, he thinks bitterly. he wonders if eighteen-year-old louis knew that this is where twenty-five-year-old louis would end up if he would still have even auditioned. whether all this heartache and pain is worth the fans he has, the boy he had, the clothes and the money and the cars and the house. he used to think so. now, he isn't so sure. 

there's all these secrets that i can't keep  
like in my heart there's this hotel suite and you lived there so long  
it's kinda strange now you're gone

and isn't thinking about eighteen-year-old louis just a treat for the mind. god, he was so gay, in the most literal, stereotypical sense, and he was warned, he should've known that he was too obvious while staring at harry and straight guys don't wear braces, they don't have feathery hair and they don't want to marry boys because it rhymes, they don't like girls who eat carrots, they don't.

i'm not sure if i should show you what i've found   
has it gone for good  
or is it coming back around?  
isn't it hard to make up your mind  
when you're losing and your fuse is fireside

his feet are hitting the pavement at a steady speed, and he has his hood up and his face down so he isn't sure if he's been recognised yet, but apparently even his going to fucking asda with his "girlfriend" is thrilling enough for management to create a whole pap outing based on it, so he isn't sure anymore. he also isn't sure when celebrities started just being pretty people instead of human beings, but maybe if someone had told eighteen-year-old louis and sixteen-year-old harry that they might've been able to keep their hands off each other.

there's all these places we used to go  
and i suspect you already know  
but that place on memory lane you liked still looks the same  
but something about it's changed

god, they were so young. they still are, but harry was just out of school for fuck's sake. he didn't get to experience anything that teenagers do, and louis is lucky he supposes, in that sense, that he had a few years to do as he pleased. he didn't get to go clubbing or to town or get the train or get drunk or do drugs or hook up with someone and never meet them again without the entire world needing to know about it. louis fell for bright eyes, hope and innocence, and louis can't even remember if harry still has that air of positivity around him or shining eyes because louis has been shaking him off for longer than he can remember because he was so desperate to not hurt his image.

i'm not sure if i should show you what i've found   
has it gone for good  
or is it coming back around?  
isn't it hard to make up your mind  
when you're losing and your fuse is fireside

he doubles over then, his body collapses on him and he's sat on the dirty london floor, his head tipped up and trying to catch his breath. there are still people watching him with their phones out or their eyes wide, and nobody's talking or maybe that's just because he has his earplugs in still. he can't bear to take them out or he's one step further from harry. he looks up at the crowd that's gathered then, sees them all for who they are and not fame-hungry fans. there are a few girls of about fourteen there, and he gives them the biggest smile he can manage. it's too tiny to be real, they know, and if anything it just looks like it concerns them more.

and i thought i was yours forever  
maybe i was mistaken but i just cannot manage to make it through the day  
without thinking of you lately

simon cowell (1): make the right choice.

;

harry wakes up with a shock, legs cramped up against something, a thin veil of sweat all over, and something vibrating somewhere on the couch. eventually the memories flood back, and that sounds a lot more interesting than the reality: he fell asleep while watching some old antique show with his cat. and now it's twelve-thirty and his phone is vibrating somewhere and his phone hasn't vibrated for weeks. harry will always in the future claim that he's only curious to what louis wants rather than desperate for any acknowledgement, because yes. that's his "louis ringtone", and his phone only vibrates if something happened on twitter.

and yes. something happened on twitter.

it takes harry a moment to even process it, he can't read the words, he's just staring at his phone in the middle of the night without seeing, and he doesn't even notice when a minute or so later he's crying, massive sobs that wrack his entire body and he can't remember the last time he cried like this. he hasn't cried in years, he knows that if he starts crying he doesn't stop, but he can't not.

@louis_tomlinson: i'm gay, it's pretty unfortunate

@louis_tomlinson: big love 

he's shaking and he can't breathe, can't even focus because louis did it, louis did what harry had been telling him to do for years, what harry whispered into his hair late at night while louis slept, what harry wished for every year on his birthday and every night on a shooting star.

the doorbell rings.

;

there's an eternity between the moment when louis presses the doorbell and when the door swings open. in that five second eternity, the rain has started to pour, leaving louis soaked through his skin and shaking. he doesn't know what he was thinking. he's sure the tabloids have already started calling him names and his fans have fucked off and left him, and instead of celebrating his coming out he's stood on the porch of the only man he ever remembers loving so much he ruined their life. it's one in the morning, louis knows harry's never up this late, he always has to go to sleep early to wake up earlier for his morning jog. fuck.

the door opens.

harry's stood there in his pyjama bottoms and no top on, tattoos exposed and if they were in any other situation louis wouldn't be able to take his eyes off them. right now, he's more focused on the red rings that are harry's eyes (was he crying?) and the way his hair is too short to pull - when did that happen?

harry doesn't speak.

"um," louis begins. "hi-"

he has a thousand things to say, a million ways to say it and a billion apologies to make, but as soon as he opens his mouth it's preoccupied, harry grabbing his waist, pulling him inside and licking into his mouth like it will save his life. for a millisecond louis doesn't know what's going on, but then he registers harry's hands cupped around his arse and his back pressed up against the wall inside harry's house, and springs into action.

he brings his hands up to the nape of harry's neck and stands on his tiptoes to get more access to his mouth. he can feel every part of harry's body against his, from his calves and thighs to his chest, bare and flushed. he unlinks one of his hands from the other and drags it down to harry's nipples, flicking one and then the other gently, resulting in a moan that louis gratefully swallows and teeth biting down against his bottom lip. he can feel his cock twitching and he detaches himself from harry's lips.

"haz," he says, as the other man latches onto his neck, where he starts biting at. "jesus christ- i'm not going to last."

"me neither," harry replies breathlessly inbetween sucking and biting. "jesus lou- i've waited so long for this, for you."

he punctuates that fact by slipping a thigh in between louis' legs and grinding into him. louis full-on whines as his dick tugs against the material of his jeans, which are suddenly way too tight. harry doesn't seem in any need to take them off though, just rolling his hips with every heartbeat. louis reattaches their lips and pulls at the hair by harry's neck. harry mewls, and louis does it again and again in a rhythm as harry moves, making his back arch and their bodies press flush against each other.

"i'm gunna-" harry manages.

louis bites down on his lip and reaches down to slip his hand beneath harry's pants. "a little bit presumptuous, styles?" he asks when he realises harry has no boxers on and his cock flies up to his stomach, red at the head.

harry swallows heavily and groans when louis wraps his hand around his cock. louis notes that this is him acting out almost every wet dream he can remember having for seven years and hopes this isn't another one. he kisses harry as if it is and this will never happen again. there's already precome gathering at the head and louis runs his thumb through it and then spreads it around for an easier slide. he then starts to jerk harry off in a pattern that matches the movements that his hips are making.

"uh- oh god, lou-" harry moans. "i'm gunna, i'm-"

he practically screams out louis' name as he orgasms, hot come spilling all over his stomach and louis' fist, and just with that, louis' name being the one on harry's tongue as he comes, he spills through his pants too. they stand there for a while, flush against each other, breathing heavily in unison.

"fuck, lou," harry says. "'m so proud of you. 'm insanely proud of you."

he kisses him again, but softer this time, before louis can say anything else, and somehow, even just forty minutes after the last time louis was wondering, he thinks that eighteen-year-old louis would still do everything the same if, in the end, he got to end up with this boy in his arms.

i'm not sure if i should show you what i've found   
has it gone for good  
or is it coming back around?  
isn't it hard to make up your mind  
when you're losing and your fuse is fireside

;

**Author's Note:**

> i don't own anyone in this story, or the song! this is all fiction, except the song, which the fic title comes from xx
> 
> leave a comment?


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